"got a dollar in my pocket,
gonna spend it on you."
there's a haunting feeling
like the kind you get
when you feel anxious
about an inevitable attack
my lack of emotional stability
idle hands are the devils playmate
but my hands are too tied up in work.
so how could that be?
i dont have time to think
i dont have time to breathe.
i considered the volume of poetry in that
i measure using the metric system
i believe its fun to make things hard
especially on me.
masochism makes you weak
i built a city on ruins
and called them the ruins
of my stability
isnt that ironic?
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